


Sin Poemas Y Sin Flores

by FakePlastikTrees



Category: Damages
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 15:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Established Patty and Ellen. Ellen's inner musings while observing Patty doing every day, mundane things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sin Poemas Y Sin Flores

************

 

Patty wakes up at five. 

 

Her alarm rudely pulls her from the gentle hold of Ellen's arm, which usually finds its way during the night draped loosely across Patty's middle. She relishes in the rare indulgence of exactly sixty seconds between slumber and wakefulness where she scoots in tightly against Ellen's side and then without further hesitance, climbs out of bed.

 

Ellen isn't able to sleep once Patty is out of bed--it's been this way for a while now, but she feigns sleep because she doesn't like to disturb Patty's routine. She'd rather listen quietly from under the covers. The sound of her moving around their bedroom has an almost calming effect. The opening and closing of drawers, the muffled footsteps, the click of the light switch in the bathroom and the sound of the faucet as she brushes her teeth--and finally the sound of the shower, which takes all of twenty minutes. Sometimes twenty-five, if they've managed to keep each other up particularly late the night before.

 

Ellen isn't sure she's ever seen Patty exit the bathroom in the morning with her hair wet. By the time she exits, her hair is styled, her make up is flawless, and there is an unseen cloud of sweet yet subtle perfume mixed with the remains of expensive shampoo that fills Ellen's senses like a freshly brewed cup of coffee. Sometimes, she wakes up and beckons Patty over for a kiss, sometimes, she simply watches.

 

Patty doesn't drink coffee very often but she manages to always steal a sip or two out of Ellen's morning cup. She enjoys the taste of tea a lot better.

 

Along with a list of tiny little habits, there is one in particular that Ellen finds particularly charming in Patty. And that is--that the woman can't keep her shoes on.   

 

The first thing she does when she walks into her apartment at the end of the day, is kick off her shoes. Sometimes, when she's feeling particularly precocious, she slips them off one by one, taking care to pull each heel off with her hand, then walking calmly to place them in their rightful place in her bedroom closet.

 

Ellen's favorite is when Patty just tosses them aside in the doorway as if they are the most terrible barrier. The action is usually accompanied by a scoff or a grunt expressing her disgust for whatever designer has decided to torture her on this particular day. Although--no, Ellen's abosolute favorite is the slightly inebriated heel hanging onto dear life shoe-off.

 

The first time Ellen noticed this particular phenomena, was during a business dinner all those years ago when she spent most of her time watching Patty for educational purposes. It was well after dessert had been served and the restaurant was virtually empty, save for their table of twenty. Patty could do that so easily, keep an entire party captivated. Ellen had caught a glimpse when she bent over to pick her napkin off the floor.

 

Patty's left leg was crossed over her right and a black four inch stiletto heel hung off at the toes of a dangling foot, dangerously close to falling on the floor. Ellen remembers holding her breath for the five or ten seconds she stayed there, hunched over in her seat, watching the elegantly arched foot swing effortlessly in the air as the blonde talked amiably and comfortably. Everything about it was perfect. From the deep arc to the mound of her heel, to the flex of her calf, which showed off what great care Patty takes of herself still. Ellen hasn't looked away since. It's difficult to accomplish when the incident repeats itself at the most inopportune times. But Ellen can deal with a little distraction here and there.

 

There are a few things Ellen loves about Patty that she will never point out. Mostly, because she enjoys being the spectator in some aspects of their life together. It's so much more enjoyable this way. 

 

Her persona as strict caregiver, for example. Catherine very rarely gets in trouble. But when she does, all she needs is that stern raise of her grandmother's eyebrow to know she's done something wrong. A soft, wholehearted apology follows and Patty is visibly reduced to mush. The little girl will usually wait until late in the evening to wordlessly crawl onto her grandmother's lap and cuddle in closely. Ellen's noticed that no matter what she's doing, Patty will allow the disturbance and welcome it with a kiss atop Catherine's head before resuming whatever it is she's doing, this time with a tiny clinging body on her lap. 

 

Ellen can't deny the giddy warmth she feels inside at witnessing such a scene. Patty is definitely ruled by the little person unexpectedly placed under her care. 

 

Ellen could make another, very long list of the things that are Patty's trademarks. At least to her anyway, because she isn't sure anyone takes this much time simply watching the older woman. She never touches her hair, for example. Not unless she's overwhelmingly worried. Otherwise, Ellen's hands are usually the only ones combing through soft, blonde locks in more intimate moments. There is that almost contained oral fixation that Ellen hopes Patty never grows out of. And her hands.

 

Ellen has spent hours and hours under the touch of those hands and she thinks that's partly why she's so obsessed with them. 

 

Patty fidgets. She drums her fingers on anything and everything when she's thinking, her desk, her lap, her lips, her hips when she's standing in a certain way. This is something Catherine has begun to pick up and Ellen sometimes wonders if it's genetic. One day, Ellen finds herself staring at those drumming fingers on an early evening in the kitchen. 

 

Patty is watching the cookies in the oven window with scrutiny--barefoot--her hands on her hips in that 'way' and her fingers drumming against the Michael Korrs skirt she's worn all day at the office, brow furrowed in what Ellen expects to be a complaint at some point.

 

"I love you," Ellen states softly, rather than let the evening commence  in an argument about the unhealthy aspects of high fructose and dessert for dinner. 

 

Patty's face slowly breaks into a smile and they marinate in silence before she finally replies. "I love you too." 

 

Catherine hurries into the kitchen then and asks Ellen to please untie her baker's apron--bought especially since Catherine's interest in baking became all the more evident the past couple of days--and the brunette thinks she wouldn't mind it if this became one little habit they can share.

 

*&*  

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
